Page 34 of Mine to Worship

“How is he?” I ask. Kian should have been there with me, seeing his baby for the first time, too.

She sighs. “He keeps asking about how you and the baby are, and if you need anything.”

I lower the window and soak in the sun, hoping to warm up the chill that expands every day a bit more in an ice coat over my heart.

“I miss painting, I miss my friends.”

I miss him.

“Kian should be here.”

“I told him to leave.” And he listened. For the first time he listened.

“I am here for you,” she says, her pleasant voice soothing me.

She accompanies me back home and leaves me with my thoughts that feed me one plate of remorse after the other until I’m full to the point of being sick.

“I am sorry your mom is such an emotional wreck,” I tell my peanut.

Tears roll down my face and my finger trembles with the first picture of my baby. We should have shared this moment together. I take a photo and send it to him via text message. My heart speeds up and I wait with bated breath but disappointment settles low in my stomach when he doesn’t reply.

I fall asleep with a hollowness spreading further.

My lashes flutter open, and I peer into gray eyes with those green intense speckles. Kian eyes me from the edge of the bed. My heart trips over itself.

I push myself off the bed and jump into his arms. He holds me to his chest, his heart beating savagely.

“I am so sorry you were on your own. I’ll be a better man.” His voice lowers, almost despondent.

I lift my chin and my heart dips in my stomach. He’s not here to get back together, he is just here for his baby. I disentangle myself from his arms while my heart ceases to beat for a while.

“I am sorry, it must be the hormones.”

“Of course,” he deadpans, and his hands drop to the side, two limbs left with no driving force.

My insides turn upside down. Where is my wild, intense force of nature who pushes me? In front of me, I see long years of civil interactions. The image ruptures something inside of me. He rubs his eyes and I see the dark circles under them.

“Are you tired?”

“No, I took the jet. I had to make sure you were all right.”

But those marks on his beautiful face reveal he is tired.

He drags his gaze to the door. “I’ll be downstairs.”

What did I think? That he’d remind me of our deal and get in bed next to me?

At the door, he halts. “If you need something, please tell me.”

I lie back, tapping at the mattress. I give up and follow him downstairs. His body is slouched on the couch, and when I approach him, I notice he’s asleep. I put a blanket on him and take in the love of my life. We ruined each other. That’s the truth. A truth that debilitates me.

I catch movement at the corner of my eye, and I rush to the door in time to stop Austin from ringing the bell.

“Kian’s asleep,” I whisper and close the door behind me.

His face crunches in disgust. That doesn’t sit well with me.

“I appreciate everything you do for me and my baby, but Kian is part of the package.”

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